


Burned the Heart Out of Me

by exbex



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 05:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exbex/pseuds/exbex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very self-indulgent ficlet of mine that takes place mostly during BSG's pilot episode. Can be read as Sherlock/John or Sherlock and John gen. Not likely to be continued. But if others would like, that is certainly encouraged ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burned the Heart Out of Me

“Can I buy you a drink?” 

John took in the blond hair tinged with a few striking wisps of grey, the lines on the face that were just visible enough to say age-appropriate, and the appalling button-down (and people thought his jumpers were atrocious), and considered briefly. But his leg was killing him and tonight’s outing had only served to feed a sense of self-pity, so he only smiled weakly and said “sorry, mate. Not tonight,” and turned to leave the pub.

“How about a frak then?”

John paused. “You don’t waste any time, do you…?” He paused, fishing for a name.

“Ben.” The man gave a lazy smile. “And no, I don’t.”

Hence John ended the night on his narrow bed, beneath the handsome stranger with the inhuman stamina, enjoying the best orgasms he’d ever had.

Ben rolled off of him with a lazy smile, then pulled John to his side, reaching over to trace the scar with two fingers.

The next morning John woke up alone, and might have passed it all off as a dream if the scent of Ben wasn’t everywhere on his sheets.

18 months later…

John could only curse Sherlock for going after Moriarty without him as he watched the bombs burst all over Caprica City, and then curse Mycroft as the familiar black car pulled up to the curb and he was forced inside, kicking and yelling about finding Sherlock.

He didn’t find Sherlock. Mycroft’s influence ran wide, even with the world ending, and John ended up on Galactica, flying a Viper again because desperate times called for desperate measures, and a bad shoulder wasn’t enough to ground a pilot anymore. Everyone could see that Watson was reckless and had a death wish, but he wasn’t exactly the only one.

John ignored the talk about finding Earth. Everything he’d been living for was long gone, and for all he cared everything could burn.

**

He’d set his sights on the wrong thing, been drawn into an asinine game. Moriarty had just been a distraction. He had ignored that impossible blonde woman, all those months ago, the one who had tried to seduce him, and that had been his mistake.

Sherlock was shaken from his thoughts by his own cry of pain as Anders set his wrist. 

“Okay?” Anders raised one eyebrow.

Sherlock thought of John and gave Anders a grim smile. “This is nothing."


End file.
